


Acting on Impulse

by motherbearof3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29365086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherbearof3/pseuds/motherbearof3
Summary: Hermione Granger was not an impulsive person. Nearly everything she did was thoroughly plotted out. So why had she suddenly  1) agreed to have lunch with Lucius Malfoy and 2) asked him to be her date to Luna and Neville’s wedding on Valentine’s Day? And how will she explain it to her friends?Written for the Strictly Lumione Valentine’s FestPrompts used:“There’s nothing cheesier than being the only unmarried bridesmaid at a wedding on Valentine’s Day!” (verbatim)“Just pretend to be my date.” (“You can be my date. Or, pretend to be my date.”)“You smile like an idiot when you’re talking to her.” (“I didn’t think he knew how to smile, but he smiles like an idiot when he looks at you.”)“Would you like to dance?” (verbatim)“The problem is, if I kissed you, I wouldn’t be able to stop.” (“If I kiss you now, I won’t be able to stop.”)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58
Collections: Strictly Lumione Valentines Fest 2021





	Acting on Impulse

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first more than a drabble for this pair and I’m so very pleased with the way it turned out. Thank you to astrangefan for fixing my grammar and helpful feedback!
> 
> As always, only this plot belongs to me. All the characters and references belong to JK Rowling. I didn’t even make up that atrocious dress, which is an actual robe that exists.

“Merlin’s saggy left ball sack, I look like I’ve been ravaged by a pack of wild pygmy puffs!”

A cultured, but frustrated female voice carried over to the side of the private dressing rooms where Lucius Malfoy was being fitted for some new winter robes. He smiled at the colorful language and was about to ask Monsieur Malkin if he knew who the customer was when there was another outburst, punctuated by a sneeze.

“Does there have to be this much fur around the neck?”

Then... 

“Will an anti-itch charm affect the fabric? If you don’t put one on, I’ll do it myself. What is this made of? Because it’s really making my nose itch. Wouldn’t that be terrible if I was allergic? I couldn’t be in the wedding.”

Fake sincerity dripped from her words. Then she sneezed two more times. Those were real.

“ _Gesundheit_ ,” Lucius said, and heard a little gasp of surprise from the other side of the curtained panel. His smile widened.

The customer was quiet for the remainder of her fitting which consisted of Madame Malkin explaining that when she was finished, the dress would feel like she was wearing nothing at all. The wizard was almost disappointed because he was enjoying the tirade about whatever the witch was being forced into wearing for someone’s wedding. 

Lucius didn’t pay much attention to the society pages so he couldn’t even begin to surmise whose nuptials were pending. That had been Narcissa’s purview, he thought with a small twinge of something behind his sternum. He wasn’t sure if it was sadness or the two pots of strong tea and no food he’d had so far that day. It wasn’t enjoyable eating by oneself, although the house elves prepared him breakfast every day. Even if that twinge wasn’t caused by the tea, the one coming from his bladder definitely was, and he wondered if Monsieur Malkin was nearly finished. As if reading his mind, the clothier announced he could remove the robes and redress. As Lucius exited the small adjacent bathroom, his bladder having been relieved, and stood at the full length mirror to make sure his clothing was laying properly, he heard the woman speak again.

“Hello? Is anyone over there? I just wanted to apologize for my comments earlier.”

He used his walking stick to push aside the curtain, replying as he did so before actually seeing the witch who belonged to the voice that, as he heard it again, reminded him of warm honey; rich and sweet.

“Madam, I assure you, I’ve heard far worse. I just hope whatever someone is forcing upon you is not as horrific as your description.”

Both parties froze.

“Mr. Malfoy!”

“Miss Granger.” 

The only thing that revealed the wizard’s surprise at finding himself face to face with the female member of the Golden Trio was the tiniest hesitation between her title and surname. His tone remained level and smooth while hers had gone up half an octave. They stood there, taking each other in. Lucius Malfoy was the last person she had expected to encounter while being fitted for the horror of a bridesmaid's dress for Luna Lovegood’s wedding. Before either witch or wizard could speak again, the large grandfather clock in the store chimed the hour and Lucius quickly pulled out his pocket watch to confirm the time. Repocketing the device, he inclined his head toward Hermione.

“As much as I would like to learn more about the frock that has created such an interesting mental image, I’m afraid I’m going to be late for an appointment. Good day, Miss Granger.”

The Malfoy patriarch spun on his heel and quickly made his way to the entrance at the front of the store, leaving Hermione left standing there with her mouth agape for several reasons. One, she had been caught swearing like a troll; two, she had been caught swearing like a troll by Lucius Malfoy; and three, Lucius Malfoy -- _Lucius Malfoy!_ \-- was looking fit. 

But before she could even begin to ponder on any of those thoughts, an electronic ringing interrupted them. Frowning, she opened her own bag to make sure it wasn’t her mobile, even though the ringtone wasn’t the right one before realizing it was coming from the restroom. The restroom that could only have had one recent occupant: the wizard who just left the store. Curiosity getting the better of her as usual, Hermione entered the small lavatory. Her eyes fell on a mobile on the sink. It was the most recent iteration of the smartphone she herself favored. But it wasn’t scheduled to hit stores for another month. Her lips curved into a smile as she picked it up. Of course Lucius Malfoy would have it before it could be bought. In her palm it vibrated and pinged with a voicemail notification showing on the screen, before going dark again.

Knowing how important her own phone was to her daily life, Hermione didn’t waste a thought on why Lucius Malfoy had one and hurried out of Madame Malkins to see if he was still nearby. To her surprise, he was standing outside the shop, his brow furrowed in annoyance as he gazed up and down the street, bustling with weekend shoppers; the cold February weather not a bother for magic folk who simply pulled their cloaks tighter and cast warming charms.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she said, holding out her hand. “Is this your mobile? I heard it ring and found it in the restroom. I think you have a voicemail.”

“Voicemail? Dammit.”

He took the phone from her and tapped out the passcode. Hermione averted her eyes and finished buttoning her cloak which she had simply thrown around her shoulders.

“Dammit,” he repeated, and she moved her eyes back to him.

“Something wrong?”

His lips drew together in a line as he decided whether or not to share his conundrum. He was sure the Muggleborn would be amused to learn he routinely failed to retrieve voice messages left for him on the device. But he could see the call had been from whom he was scheduled to meet.

“I can’t -- I don’t suppose you would know how to get the message to play on this bloody machine? It’s new and I --”

“It always takes me a while to get used to a new phone,” she told him without a trace of mockery which surprised him. “May I?”

Lucius placed it in her palm, noticing how much smaller her hand was than his. A few taps and she handed it back to him. 

“Just touch play.”

He did, put it to his ear and listened. Again, she directed her attention to pulling on her gloves, so as not to appear an eavesdropper. When he lowered it again, he met her gaze, noticing for the first time, her eyes were not the muddy brown he’d imagined when she was younger, but a rich shade; the color of fine whisky with golden flecks that matched the highlights in her curls. Curls that no longer were the riot resembling a sheep needing shorn, but controlled ringlets that looked soft and begged to be touched.

“Thank you. That was my appointment and were it not for you, I’d have been standing here waiting for someone who wasn’t going to appear,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, adding politely, “It was nice to see you again.”

The words sprang from the wizard’s lips before he even considered what he was saying as she turned to go.

“Miss Granger. Since it seems my afternoon has been emancipated, would you like to join me for a bite to eat and tell me more about this wedding for which you’re being forced to impersonate a wild pygmy puff?”

Unable to come up with a reason to decline the invitation, she found herself saying yes.

And so it was that Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, cohort of the Chosen One and senior solicitor in the International Magical Office of Law came to have lunch with Lucius Malfoy, one of the wealthiest wizards in the world, international business tycoon and former Death Eater.

The place he escorted her to was on the Muggle side of London, an exclusive club where, Lucius said, he already had a lunch reservation for the meeting that had gotten cancelled. So exclusive, Hermione noticed, no one blinked at the fact she was wearing an ankle length wool cloak over jeans and a jumper, albeit cashmere. The wizard, she noticed for the first time, had on a suit and overcoat that could pass for either conservative magical or fashion forward Muggle.

Her observations continued as he drew out of her the story of how she came to be in Madam Malkins that morning, listening attentively to her somewhat rambling tale of the impending wedding of Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom.

“So, Neville’s grandmother, who has to be as old as Dumbledore was by now, took a liking to Luna. I guess she felt sorry for her being orphaned in the second wizarding war, you know, like Neville is basically, and she gave her carte blanche for the wedding. It’s not just going to be odd, but extravagantly odd,” Hermione explained with a shake of her head.

Lucius’ mouth twitched. Augusta Longbottom. He remembered her being friends with a cousin of his who was only 10 years older than him. With her eccentricities, he could see why she would seem older and also would have taken to Luna.

Hermione noted his eyes didn’t glaze over like she knew other wizards -- _Ronald!_ \-- would have when she went into detail about the dress she’d tried on earlier and how it more resembled a dressing gown with an excessive amount of fur trim than a bridemaid’s dress. 

“I almost wish I had been allergic to it or something,” Hermione divulged over the salad course. “Or had some other reason not to attend.”

“Why is that?”

“Because there is nothing cheesier than being the only unmarried bridesmaid at a wedding on Valentine’s Day!” Hermione declared, her eyes flashing. 

Lucius wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by _cheesier_ , but he was sure from the context it had nothing to do with the food. Then she pointed her fork at him.

“Ten years gone and do you know that I’m the only one out of my year at Hogwarts who isn’t married or at least attached? Even Draco finally came out of the closet and he and Harry are together somewhere. Have you heard from them? I haven’t since Christmas.”

Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world, had gone straight into Auror training with Ron Weasley when Hermione returned to Hogwarts to officially finish her education. In spite of being successful at his job, Harry couldn’t handle the constant publicity even when he worked even the most insignificant cases, and fled to the Muggle world. Draco Malfoy, having turned down both Daphne and Astoria Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson and a half dozen other witches, finally admitted publicly that he was gay and had been in love with Harry for years. He went after Potter and last anyone knew, they’d gotten married and were living quietly somewhere away from London. 

The elder Malfoy shook his head. His relationship with his son was civil at best; and that was usually in public. Not because of Draco’s sexuality. Lucius didn’t give a Goblin’s damn about that. He’d had both witches and wizards in his own bed before. No, his heir blamed him for his mother’s death. 

All three of the Malfoys spent time in Azkaban while the Ministry was getting its ducks in a row deciding who would be tried first and for what. Narcissa spent the least amount of time there -- about a month -- and because she lied to Voldemort, telling him Harry was dead, she was pardoned of any crimes she may have committed. 

But her mental state was never the same. She told everyone that she’d been haunted by the ghost of her dead sister the entire time. No one else ever saw or heard of Bellatrix haunting the prison, but Narcissa was adamant. Then, once she returned to Malfoy Manor, she began having nightmares about the incident with Bellatrix and Hermione in the drawing room. Her screams would wake the entire household, even Draco in his own wing. 

Lucius, who had been sentenced to actual time in Azkaban, was shocked at how his wife had deteriorated by the time he was released, he confided in Hermione. Narcissa refused to meet with a mind healer for any kind of therapy. His and Draco’s had been Witzengamot-ordered. While he resisted at first, Lucius eventually realized he had needed to confide in someone; to share his feelings and what he’d been through with someone who wouldn’t judge. He came out of it learning a lot about himself and was on the road to being better in mind and body.

“And Mrs. Malfoy?” Hermione asked gently.

“Eventually she had a complete breakdown. She couldn’t tell the past from the present. She barely recognized me or Draco. The healers wanted to admit her to St. Mungo’s but Draco refused. He said she would equate that with being in prison again and he was probably right. We tried, but she retreated further into her own world and eventually stopped speaking. Then she stopped eating. Even magic and potions could only do so much. She died of malnutrition. Draco blames me.”

Lucius bent his head and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper.

“He doesn’t understand. Even with what he went through at the hands of the Dar -- Voldemort, I didn’t have a choice. And that every choice I did have, I made so that he and his mother were protected as best I could.”

Hermione covered one of his hands with hers. 

“He’ll figure it out someday. My parents don’t understand either. But that’s a story for another day.”

It had been a long time since he had a conversation that was about anything other than investments, potential investments or assuring his probation officer that he hadn’t slid back into his dark ways. It had also been a long time since he’d had the pleasure of a beautiful witch’s company. The wizard withdrew his hand and reached for his goblet of water. He took a drink and cleared his throat; his voice returning to normal, if slightly wistful. 

“Thank you, Miss Granger, for joining me for lunch. It was most enjoyable. Narcissa and I weren’t a love match, but we enjoyed each other’s company once upon a time. Business meetings don’t quite compare to meaningful conversation with good company.”

Hermione tried not to look surprised. Lucius Malfoy was lonely!

“Come to the wedding with me,” she blurted. “You can be my date. Or, pretend to be my date.”

Her suggestion took him by surprise.

“Oh, I don’t think --”

“Listen, if I have to wear that monstrosity, the least I can do is have a date who is charming, fit and knows how to dance without stepping on my toes. If I tell Luna I don’t have a plus one, she’s going to set me up with one of her Lovegood cousins. Did you ever meet her father?”

Lucius was won over. He was more than a little intrigued with adult Hermione Granger.

“'I am starting to think I should have brought my solicitor to this luncheon, Miss Granger. Very well, I will be your escort to what sounds like the wizarding wedding of the season,” Lucius replied, his face solemn but his gray eyes twinkling with amusement.

“In that case, I think you should start calling me Hermione,” she replied. “Lucius.”

Hermione didn’t think she had ever verbalized his given name but it rolled off her tongue as if she had always been using it. They finished their meal and went outside to go their respective ways, walking back to the secluded spot into which they had apparated.

“Thank you for lunch. And thank you for agreeing to be my pretend date,” Hermione said. “I’ll send you the details.”

Lucius took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, kissing her knuckles.

“I’ll look for your owl. Hermione.”

The last man to kiss her hand had been Viktor Krum, Fourth Year, when they went to the Yule Ball together. But she couldn’t remember his lips ever touching her. It was more like a bow over her hand. This was an actual caress of his lips on her skin. She felt his warm breath first and then his mouth, soft and gentle; two adjectives Hermione had previously not applied to Lucius Malfoy. But it was over before she could absorb what was happening and he was gone, with a smile and a wink of one of his gray eyes.

Sometimes Hermione wondered if Luna was part Seer. The following week she stopped by her office wanting to know if she had a plus one because her cousin, Xanthius Lovegood, had inquired about her. Hermione had met the wizard at Luna and Neville’s engagement party and he looked like a younger version of Xenophilius Lovegood, with the odd personality and wardrobe to match. Silently thanking the Hogwarts founders for running into Lucius Malfoy the previous weekend, Hermione told the bride-to-be that she did have a date for the wedding.

“Don’t forget the rehearsal dinner too,” Luna reminded as she walked away.

“Bugger,” muttered Hermione, for she had.

She still needed to owl Lucius with details about the wedding itself, so she penned a note to him, explaining that Luna was expecting her to bring a date to the rehearsal as well, but she could make an excuse because she had only asked him to attend the wedding itself with her, not make a weekend out of it. A reply came quickly, telling her that having conversations like this via owl was nearly as abhorrent to him as via mobile texting and was she free for lunch? Wondering why he even had a mobile phone if he didn’t like it and had problems using it, Hermione sent her own reply that yes, she was free and usually took her lunch at 12:30. Promptly at half twelve, her assistant poked her head in the door, looking a little flustered.

“Hermione, Mr. Malfoy is here to see you. Mr. Lucius Malfoy. Did you have an appointment with him not on your calendar?”

“No, we’re having lunch. Tell him I’ll be right out. Thanks, Ellie.”

When the door closed again, Hermione stood and checked her reflection in the mirror on the back of it. Her hair was behaving itself today, she tucked her blouse in her skirt a bit more and turned sideways to survey the seams of her stockings. She’d discovered seamed stockings in Europe, in a couture store trying to bring back vintage styles and loved them. They went well with the slim skirts she wore for work, and magicked to stay in place, she didn’t need to bother with garters. Satisfied with her appearance, Hermione summoned her cloak and bag and opened the door.

Lucius was seated in one of the chairs in the outer room for clients and visitors to wait, but appeared to dwarf it. Hermione had a sudden thought that she didn’t realize how tall and broad shouldered he really was until he stood up from it as she exited her office.

“Hello, Hermione.” He greeted her with a smile and an inclination of his head.

“Hello, Lucius.” She returned the smile easily.

“I’ve chosen a place for us to eat if you don’t mind,” he told her, reaching for her cloak and draping it around her shoulders.

She fastened it at her neck as she shook her head.

“Not at all.”

Then she turned to her assistant. 

“I may be a little longer than usual, but I don’t have any appointments this afternoon. Feel free to take your lunch whenever you would normally. Don’t wait for me to return.”

It was a good thing she told Ellie not to wait to take her lunch, Hermione told Lucius with a laugh when they arrived at their destination. Via portkey. At a town on the western coast of Ireland. He replied he was combining business with pleasure, as he was considering investing in the resort where they were dining. 

They were seated at a table by a large picture window that overlooked the sea. Once the server had taken their orders, Hermione broached the subject of the rehearsal dinner, repeating her offer to make an excuse for his absence.

“Nonsense,” Lucius said firmly. “I agreed to be your escort for the Lovegood-Longbottom nuptials. I will attend both the rehearsal and wedding with you. What kind of a partner would I be to allow you to go to one alone?”

“Partner?” Hermione’s brows lifted.

“Surely you don’t think your friends are going to believe we ran into each other and you asked me to be your date on impulse because you didn't want to attend alone or be paired with one of Miss Lovegood’s relations?”

One of Lucius’ pale brows countered hers.

“But that’s exactly what happened!”

“But will they _believe_ it is the question? My feeling is no.”

“And you think they’re more likely to believe you and I are --” she lowered her voice, realizing it had gone up a bit in volume, “-- are in a relationship?”

“ You and I have a rocky past, Miss Gr -- Hermione, but you and your friends did stand up for my family after the war and your best friend -- a man who is the closest thing you have to a brother -- is married to my son. I think that would lead people to believe we had mended fences, as it were.”

She looked out at the waves crashing below them and couldn’t think of a good argument against what he said. Except...

“But you’re 25 years older than I am,” she offered, knowing in the wizarding world age didn’t matter once all parties were past the age of consent. 

As she expected he waved off her argument without a countering word. Wizards, with few exceptions, seemed to stop aging for a period of time once they reached middle age, Hermione knew. As she looked at the one sitting opposite her, she was reminded of her thought the other day that he was looking fit. Quite fit indeed. Lucius had regained the weight lost during the war and during his stint in prison, but there was no softness beneath his suit that she could tell. 

He still retained the Malfoy poise, but gone was the stick up his arse demeanor and, when he hadn’t looked sad about his wife and son, had actually smiled a couple of times. He was intelligent and witty; able to keep up with her in more than idle chit chat, and not that it mattered to her, he was also one of the wealthiest wizards in the UK. Probably one of the top ten in the world. In all, a fairly decent catch. If she had been looking to catch someone. Which she wasn’t. She simply needed a date to get through this bloody wedding and not feel like the spinster aunt of the group. But, she thought, it might be fun to pretend. However, being who she was, Hermione needed a plan.

“All right,” she said. “But we need to get our story straight. Because people will ask questions.”

*****

Lucius had business travel scheduled in the days preceding Luna and Neville’s wedding weekend, so they agreed to meet at the Longbottom Estate for the rehearsal dinner. Hermione fretted over what to wear the first night. She had her usual little black dress but it had been transfigured into so many different styles over the years that it had started resisting the spell, resulting in an uneven hem and spots where the fabric laid oddly. Finally she called Ginny Weasley, who was home on a break between Quidditch seasons to attend the wedding as Luna’s other bridesmaid and asked if she’d go shopping with her.

“Clothes shopping? Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?” the red head laughed. “But of course I’ll go!”

The two old friends spent some time catching up while they tried on dresses before Ginny asked the question Hermione had been waiting for: who was her date for the wedding?

“Did Luna try and set you up with one of her cousins too?” the Quidditch player asked from her dressing room.

“Yes. Xanthius. Who did you escape by taking Blaise?” replied Hermione, putting off her answer as long as possible.

“Xenos.”

Ginny’s laughter carried over the partition between them.

“Do all of their names start with X? And yes, my manager will be on my arm this weekend.”

“Gin, do you really think we don’t know you two are a couple?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione mimicked her friend. “Good Godric, you two may not touch each other when you’re out in public but the eye fucking makes up for it!”

There was silence for a few moments, then Ginny said quietly.

“Well, shit.” Then. “I guess I’ll tell him he can grab my ass if he wants now.”

They both laughed and finally Ginny said, “You didn’t say who your plus one is. Someone from work?”

Hermione’s reply was muffled as she pulled yet another dress over her head.

“What?”

“No. What do you think of this one?”

Ginny opened the door to her cubicle.

“If I was your date I’d want to take it off of you. And that would be…..?”

Hermione turned around.

“This isn’t too tight on my butt?”

“No, your ass looks great. Who?”

Hermione took a deep breath. _This was your idea, witch_ , she told herself _._ She looked her friend in the eye.

“Lucius Malfoy.”

“Oh.”

Ginny turned back to her dressing room, stopped, and turned around again.

“Did you say --”

“Lucius Malfoy, yes.”

The red head was silent for a moment, then narrowed her eyes and spoke again.

“I’m not going to insult you, Hermione, by asking if you could be under some kind of Imperius.”

“Thank you,” the other witch said stiffly, looking at her reflection in the three way mirror. “Yes, I’m going to get this one. Did you find something?”

“No. Pay for yours and let’s find a pub. I need several drinks and more information.”

Hermione debated whether to tell Ginny the entire truth or just the story she and Lucius would be telling people at the wedding. But the youngest Weasley was the closest thing she had to a sister, regardless of the fact she and Ron’s relationship had ended. So over several pints after Ginny’s initial shot of whisky “to get over the shock” and some greasy fish and chips, Hermione told Ginny the whole story, from getting overheard in Madam Malkin’s to their lunch on the Irish coast the other day. The younger witch empathized with her friend’s desire not to appear the only unattached one of their group from Hogwarts. But Lucius Malfoy!

“We’ve all changed since the war, Gin. Why is it hard to believe he has too? And where do you think Draco gets his brains? He’s smart and nice and --”

“Fit?” Ginny interrupted. “What? Am I wrong?”

Hermione shook her head, and bit her lip, blushing.

“No. Dancing should be enjoyable at least.”

“Like the horizontal Mambo?” 

Ginny winked.

“Okay, you’re done. We’re done.”

Hermione moved the redhead’s glass out of reach with a laugh. Before the two witches parted, Ginny promised she would keep Hermione’s secret about her date.

***

As planned, Hermione arrived alone at the Longbottom Estate that Friday. She was immediately swept into rehearsal activities by Luna and her wedding planner who was, to Hermione’s surprise, Pansy Parkinson-Weasley. How had she not known that, she wondered? Probably because she hardly ever talked to Ron anymore even though they both worked at the Ministry. When Harry ran away from the magical world, the three friends drifted apart. Her relationship with Ron never went anywhere and she was happy for him, if a little surprised when he began to date Pansy. But they’d been together almost five years now, married for two and expecting their first child. 

She looked at the witch now, standing at the front of the room where the ceremony would take place. As expected, Pansy was dressed in the latest maternity fashion, her bump on display, not hidden by her clothes and Hermione had a small pang of envy. The way her love life was going, she’d be forty before she had a child if she was lucky. Forcing those thoughts away, she turned her attention to what the wedding planner was saying.

“...we’re going to run through the ceremony twice. Neville, you and Ron up here with me. We’re missing the other groomsman. He was detained by a family emergency but will hopefully be here tomorrow. Ladies, to the back please.”

Hermione and Ginny joined Luna and one of her uncles at the other end of the short aisle that divided rows of chairs in the large room. The bride greeted them both with hugs.

“I hope Harry will be able to make it tomorrow,” she told them.

“Wait, Harry is Neville’s other groomsman?” exclaimed Ginny.

“Our Harry?” added Hermione. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“He wasn’t sure if he was ready to come back yet,” Luna explained. “He just owled Neville two weeks ago.”

“Is Draco coming with him? What is the emergency?” Hermione pressed.

“I don’t know. To either question.”

Pansy forestalled any more conversation by beginning the rehearsal. After the procession and ceremony had been practiced to the planner’s satisfaction, the bridal party was dismissed to join Augusta Longbottom and the rest of the evening’s guests. With the bride and groom paired off and Ron and Pansy walking together, it left Hermione and Ginny to enter the sitting room together. She immediately saw Blaise in conversation with her date, and breathed a sigh of relief that he had arrived and didn’t appear to be uncomfortable in his surroundings. Lucius looked sharp, dressed in a traditional Muggle suit and tie. His business must have been with a non-magical company, the witch thought. Both men looked up as the witches approached and Lucius immediately stood and offered her a smile that was reflected in his eyes.

“Hermione!” 

“Lucius, I’m glad you made it safely.”

When she was close enough, the wizard reached out and took her hand, pulling her close enough to curve his arm loosely around her waist. It was the first time she’d been close enough to smell his cologne and it was a subtle yet spicy scent that filled her nostrils as he pressed his lips to her temple in a greeting befitting the relationship they were putting on display for the weekend. Just like when he’d kissed her hand, the sensation of his mouth on her skin had Hermione flushing with warmth. Without thinking, she went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. His arm tensed slightly before relaxing again and smiling at Ginny, who had put out her hand to greet him.

“Miss Weasley, so nice to see you again. Mr. Zabini and I were just discussing the Harpies record this season.”

He raised her hand to his lips and she giggled, pulling it away and coming close enough to kiss him on his other cheek. Then she patted his chest.

“Oh, Luci, we’re all grown ups now. We can use first names, can’t we?”

This time, Hermione felt the wizard’s entire body tense at the abbreviation of his name. She’d bet every galleon in her vault no one had ever called Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, _Luci_ before. Her gaze met Blaise’s and his eyes reflected her surprise. Before she could say anything to steer the conversation in a different direction, Lucius relaxed again and his mouth curved slowly into the trademark Malfoy smirk as he replied.

“Of course we can. _Ginevra_.”

Blaise burst out laughing as the red head scowled.

“He’s got you there, babe,” he told her. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

Her manager-lover took her hand and led her to the sideboard where bottles and glasses stood.

Hermione grinned up at the man at her side.

“Well played.”

“Thank you. By the way, you look lovely. Did you choose that color for me?” Lucius’ gray eyes twinkled. “Or have your house allegiances changed?”

Hermione laughed and something warmed in the wizard’s chest at the sound.

“No. I’ve just learned I look better in green than red. I’m going to go get a drink.”

She turned and walked across the room to join Ginny and Blaise. The warmth in Lucius’ chest spread south as he watched the sway of her hips under the green fabric that clung to her curves. He forced his eyes away lest he allow his body to embarrass him like a Sixth Year and followed behind her.

Across the room, Ron was glaring at the couple, his fists and jaw clenched.

“What is she doing here with him?” he ground out to Pansy.

“Who? Oh, Lucius? He’s her plus one. I hear they’re dating,” she said lightly.

“Dating?!” 

In his head it was a shout but it came out as a harsh whisper because Ron knew better than to cause a scene at one of his wife’s events.

Pansy reached out and took his hands in hers, unfolding his fingers and placing them on either side of her protruding belly. Then she reached up and placed her palms on either side of his face, making eye contact that was fierce but loving.

“Ronald Weasley,” she said softly, but firmly. “Love of my life. Father of my child. Who Hermione chooses to date is not any of our concern. You know as well as I do, Lucius is not the same man he was when we were children. None of us are the same. If we were, you wouldn’t have married me, now would you?”

His face softened, as it always did when he felt their child moving within her.

“No. You’re right.”

“I always am.” Pansy stretched up and kissed him.

“Merlin, now you sound like Hermione.”

Ron rolled his eyes and pulled her as close as he was able with her abdomen between them.

“But I always did like swotty witches,” he whispered.

Dinner went smoothly, with no one, once Ron settled down, batting an eyelash or questioning Lucius being there with Hermione. Or, if they had an opinion, they kept it to themselves. At its conclusion, Luna and Neville told their guests that they’d show everyone to their rooms in the guest wing and that breakfast would be available beginning at 8 a.m. 

The couples followed the bride and groom through the house which, Hermione thought, rivaled Malfoy Manor and didn’t realize Neville had grown up like this. He’d been so different from Draco when they were young. So caught up in her thoughts she didn’t realize Luna had stopped outside a bedroom door.

“Here’s your room, Hermione. You and Lucius.”

She stepped forward and hugged Hermione in the odd, forward way she had.

“Thank you so much for being a part of our wedding. Good night.”

Then she stepped back, took Neville’s hand and continued down the hallway with Ginny and Blaise behind them.

Lucius opened the door before them and let her lead the way inside. Soft lighting magically came on, illuminating the room. It was a large bedroom, elegantly appointed with furniture Hermione was sure was antique. Dressing table, armoire, a small sitting area and two night tables flanking a -- her brain skidded to a halt she felt sure was audible -- bed. 

It dominated the room with four posters that were the height and circumference of small trees. Every bit of exposed wood was intricately carved; even the delicate pieces that connected the tops of each pillar. The bedding, a rich shade of dark blue, looked lush and heavy and there were more pillows than two people could possibly need.

“Well,” she said brightly, drawing her wand from her bag, “we can just turn that into two beds for tonight and back into one in the morning. No one will be the wiser, right?”

Hermione waved her wand, expecting to see the large bed split into two singles. She felt the ripple of magic, but nothing happened. Frowning, she wanted to shake her wand like Seamus Finnegan used to when they were First Years and his spells weren’t working. She cast the spell again. Nothing. Turning, she looked at the wizard beside her.

“Why won’t it transfigure?”

“It’s an old house. Old magic. Sometimes it won’t allow things to be changed.”

Lucius was amused at this witch who had immediately assumed as her pretend escort, that he was unwilling to share a bed with her. Or perhaps she was uncomfortable doing the sharing.

“Well, I can’t just cast a _Diffindo_! It would destroy the bed. I mean, I could fix it, but it would never be the same and this is such beautiful furniture. I guess I could try and transfigure one of the chairs into a lounge and you can have the bed.”

Hermione knew she was rambling and sure she was flushed with nervousness. She hadn’t given a thought to the fact that they’d be given a bedroom to share. She’d been more preoccupied with everyone’s reaction, which had been negligible so far. Who knew what people would say tomorrow when the house was full of guests. But now her concern was where they were going to sleep. 

Lucius sat down in one of said chairs and crossed his leg, ankle on the opposite knee. When she approached the other chair, he reached out and took her wand from her hand.

She was instantly defensive and wondered what he planned on doing with her wand. A brief thought that he’d been stripped of his own flashed through her head, but knew that was wrong, because one, she’d have known about it and two, he’d done magic around her.

“What are you doing?”

“Hermione, sit down, please.”

She perched tensely on the edge of the other chair, still disquieted over her inability to transfigure the bed and the thought of sharing it with the Wizard opposite her. With her wand he conjured a glass of water on the table between them. Satisfied that there was nothing wrong with her wand he laid it down before handing her the glass.

“Drink.”

The fact that her wand responded for him as smoothly as it did her was oddly calming and she was strangely comforted that he wanted to make sure there was nothing magically wrong with it. 

But she had to ask. 

“Where’s your wand?”

“Packed in my luggage, which is still shrunk from traveling.”

Lucius indicated the Muggle style briefcase on the floor. She relaxed a little into the chair.

After she took a drink, he spoke again.

“When you asked me to be your date for this weekend, I anticipated there was a chance we would be given a room together. That is the assumption these days, is it not? That people who are dating are sleeping together?”

Hermione took another sip of water and Lucius continued.

“As Miss Weasley put it earlier, we are all grown ups. I think you and I are perfectly capable of sharing a bed. If you disagree, I can apparate back to the Manor tonight, sleep there and return before anyone is awake in the morning. I don’t think the Longbottoms have anti-apparition wards to the extent that the Malfoys do.”

The witch felt foolish. 

“No, you are correct, Lucius. I’m sorry. We can share the bed. There is no need for you to leave and come back. Besides, I think you’d be surprised at the type of wards Neville’s Gran has.”

The pair took turns in the adjoining bathroom, Hermione going first and being under the covers when Lucius emerged. She considered laying down with her back to him but decided that would be rude, so she was propped up against the pillows with a book in her hands. The mattress dipped when he climbed in on his side. She could smell soap and toothpaste; proof of his evening ablutions and she was being eaten up with curiosity as to what he wore to bed, but couldn’t bring herself to look. Finally, his voice drew her attention and she had to turn her gaze from the page in front of her.

“Hermione?”

“Yes?”

She met his gaze and in her peripheral vision could see his shoulders were bare, save for the straps of what she’d learned American Muggles called a wife-beater. Her mouth went dry. Broad, fit shoulders were one of her weak spots. And from what she could see without looking directly, Lucius’ were quite fit. She wondered what he had on his legs.

“You haven’t turned a page since I got in the bed. You don’t have to pretend to read. We can turn out the lights and go to sleep.”

Fine lines around his eyes conveyed his amusement.

“I-I wasn’t pretending,” she fibbed. “I couldn’t concentrate.”

That wasn’t a total falsehood. But she wasn't going to say _"Sorry, Lucius, I can't concentrate on my book because I'm wondering if your lower half looks as good as your upper half, and by the way, what do you have on underneath the covers?”_

“I was thinking. Did you hear Harry was asked to stand up with Neville? Luna said she didn’t know if Draco was coming with him or not.”

“Yes, Augusta said something about them having a family emergency today and missing their portkey. I hope it was nothing serious,” he replied. 

“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.” 

Hermione broke eye contact, closed her book and put it on the night table. Then she slid down under the covers, pulling them up to her chin.

“Shall I turn out the lights?” Lucius asked.

“Please.”

He cast a nonverbal _Nox_ and the room was plunged into darkness.

“Good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Lucius.”

The few times Hermione had shared a bed with Ron, she always found herself on the edge with her knees hanging off because he sprawled like a starfish, taking up most of the mattress. Such was not the case with Lucius Malfoy. He stayed on his side, although she could feel his body heat radiate toward her; which was good because clearly Augusta Longbottom didn’t believe in whole-house heating charms and the room grew chilly as the night wore on.

When she woke up to the vibration of her mobile in her bag on the dressing table and reached her hand out to _Accio_ it to turn it off, she discovered they had migrated toward each other during the night; probably seeking warmth. She was on her side with her back to him, and he was behind her, not quite the big spoon, but his large hand was heavy on her hip and one of his legs was between hers. Hermione could feel satiny fabric against her bare legs where her nightgown had ridden up, answering her question of what he wore on his bottom half. 

The mobile in her hand and alarm off, she moved to slide away from him and get out of bed when the hand on her hip moved to her waist and pulled her back against the solid wall of his chest. She let out a surprised squeak, which earned her a sleepy sound from the wizard as he nuzzled his face into her neck.

“Lucius,” Hermione said quietly and got a hum in return, so she tried a little louder. “Lucius.”

The wizard opened his eyes into a mass of brown curls, not the smooth blonde hair his subconscious was expecting. He and Narcissa had spent most nights in their respective rooms, but there had been the occasion when they sought each other’s comfort. Truth be told, he enjoyed sharing a bed with a woman and sometimes added extra pillows with a warming charm to his to make up the space. But this wasn’t his wife. This was the quick-witted witch he’d fallen asleep thinking about. Immediately releasing her from his one armed embrace he rolled onto his back and pinched the bridge of his nose before scrubbing the same hand over his face and turning his head to look at her.

“Hermione. Good morning. My apologies.”

“Good morning. No apologies are necessary. I just needed you to let go so I could go to the loo.”

He heard the smile in her voice and was relieved she wasn’t upset at his unintentional snuggling.

Hermione summoned her dressing gown and slid from the bed to put it on before disappearing into the bathroom. When the door closed, Lucius exhaled sharply and thanked the gods she had woken him before his body had reacted to having her in his arms. Once he was awake, he realized there were differences between her and Narcissa. Where his wife had been slender with few curves, Hermione was blessed with an abundance of them. Her hips were fuller, as were her breasts. He’d felt her waist and hips and now wondered what her breasts would feel like under his hands. In his mouth. Lucius flung back the covers and threw himself out of the bed as his body began to respond to his thoughts.

When she reopened the door, Hermione found the bedroom empty. She’d washed her face and brushed her teeth after emptying her bladder. A full shower could wait until later when she got ready for the wedding. Now she wondered where her roommate had gone. A pair of black silk pyjama bottoms lay across the chair he’d occupied the night before, so she imagined he’d dressed. Remembering how the fabric felt against her legs, she resisted the urge to run her fingers across them and quickly gathered up some clothes before returning to the bathroom to dress in case he returned before she was done. The second time she opened the door, Lucius was there. On the table between the chairs was a tray with a tea service.

“Good morning, again,” he said with a smile. 

He was dressed as casually as she had ever seen him, in dark gray trousers and a white button up shirt covered by a blue jumper that made his eyes look the same shade and looked so soft she wanted to curl her fingers into it.

“Good morning. Again.”

Lucius held out his arm and offered her a single, perfect, pink rose.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. I may have purloined this from the copious vases of them currently being moved into the wedding arena.”

Hermione took it and held it to her nose, inhaling its rich fragrance.

“It is Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? Thank you.”

He indicated the table. 

“I also talked the kitchen staff into letting me bring some tea up here for us since breakfast won’t be put out for another hour. Did you realize it was this early?”

When Hermione seated herself, he did as well.

“Yes. I’ve always been an early riser. I’m sorry if I forced you to get up.”

“Not at all,” he replied, pouring tea into cups. “I prefer to get up early as well, read the papers and sometimes have a swim.”

Lucius’ words conjured an image in her head of him swimming laps in a pool, his strong arms and shoulders pulling him smoothly through the water, then climbing out, water running from his skin. She took a sip of her tea, letting the scalding liquid bring her back to reality.

Hermione had told Pansy several times that she preferred to do her own hair, even though the planner had arranged for a stylist for Luna and the bridesmaids. And so she stood in the bathroom looking at her reflection, telling herself not to think about Lucius on the other side of the wooden door, getting dressed himself. She wondered if he would be wearing dress robes or Muggle formal wear. He’d showered first and the small room still smelled of his soap, shampoo and cologne; a heady aroma of masculinity that threatened to dampen her knickers. 

Finally satisfied with her hair and makeup, she pulled on her stockings, eschewing magic to hold them up this time, and clipped them to a black lace garter belt. Not, she told herself firmly, that anyone but herself would be unclipping them at the end of the evening. But her fingers lingered on the edge of a stocking, wondering if Lucius knew what a garter belt even was. Straightening the seams of her stockings, Hermione stepped into her dress. 

Both she and Ginny had decided they needed to wear something under the fur trimmed dressing gowns Luna had forced upon them. Firstly because where there was no fur, the fabric verged on see-thru and second because they both concluded that no cooling charm would be a match for the amount of insulation they’d be wearing and they’d need to remove them for the reception. Pansy said Luna didn’t care as long as whatever they wore beneath didn’t come past their knees and was the same color. Ginny chose a daring hot pants jumpsuit with a halter top and plunging neckline that showed almost as much skin as it covered. Hermione went a little more conservatively with a form fitting dress that had a sweetheart neckline and thin straps of ribbon that were more decorative than functional and hemline that ended mid-thigh. Securing the straps over her shoulders, she adjusted her breasts in the built-in cups and reached behind her. 

“Shit,” she muttered, turning to look in the mirror. “Fuck.”

Hermione had forgotten that this dress didn’t zip. There were a dozen or so small, pearl buttons that needed done up. She knew there was a reason this dress had been in the back of her closet when she pulled it out and decided its pale gray color would transfigure nicely to match her bridesmaid’s garb. Her domestic spellwork was excellent except when it came to small round buttons behind her back. Now she’d have to ask Lucius for help.

Lucius was reading a newspaper while he waited for his date and as the door opened from the bathroom looked up at her over the tops of metal framed reading glasses perched on his nose. Hermione’s knees felt weak. Men in glasses were another of her weaknesses. _Sweet baby dragons, he looks hot in those._ Then he lowered the paper, removed the spectacles and put both on the table beside his chair and stood. Heat pooled low in her belly and her mouth went dry. His attire was a combination of dress robes and a Muggle tuxedo and the rose he’d handed her that morning was now perched on his lapel. Hermione swallowed, attempting to moisten her mouth so she could speak, but he beat her to it.

“You look stunning, Hermione. Simply stunning.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I need a little help with the buttons in the back.”

“Of course.”

She turned and it was the wizard’s turn to feel the air leave his lungs. He’d expected to do up one button for her. Maybe two. But he was presented with the bare expanse of her back from nape nearly to her waist. No brassiere straps in sight, telling him her full breasts were unrestrained in the dress. Lucius reached out and began working the small pearl buttons through their loops. His hands were warm but the feel of his fingers against her skin made Hermione shiver. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think my hands were cold,” he apologized, pulling them away.

She shook her head, making her curls dance and releasing the scent of her shampoo. 

“They’re not.”

Her words, almost a whisper, hit him like a stinging jinx. He wanted to make her shiver again. Wanted to do it by pressing his lips against the bare skin of her nape, exposed by her updo. He clenched his fingers tightly. She looked over her shoulder at him. _By Salazar, she was beautiful!_

“Are you done?”

Opening his fists, Lucius did up the last few buttons quickly.

“Yes.”

She turned and looked up at him, a good deal shorter without her shoes and he shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from pulling her to him and snogging her senseless.

“Thank you. I hardly ever wear this dress because of those bloody buttons. They’re even harder to get open.”

Hermione retrieved her shoes from her bag -- in the matching shade of course -- and stepped into one. Then she placed a hand on one of the bed posts to balance and slid the second one on her other foot. As she did, Lucius covertly admired her legs and bit the inside of his lip when he noticed the seams in her stockings. Seamed stockings was one of his fetishes that Narcissa hardly ever indulged him in once Draco was born. He loved to run his fingers up the seam from heel, across the back of the knee and up the back of the thigh to where silk met skin. 

Lucius had a sudden mental image of waving his hand over her back and popping the small pearls off the dress completely, before pushing it off her body, baring her to him but for those seamed stockings and, knowing she was Muggleborn, possibly a garter belt.

“I - I’m going to go see if Draco and Harry made it,” he said, opening the bedroom door. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

His son and son in law had not yet arrived although Pansy told him they had used that day’s portkey, so the wizard made his way into the room where the ceremony would be, trying to calm his thoughts about a certain curly haired muggleborn. This was supposed to be a weekend of playing a role. Pretending he was Hermione’s escort of choice not out of desperation on her part. But the lines had started to blur and he was feeling a definite attraction toward the younger witch that wasn’t simply physical.

Draco entered the room that looked like it had been coated in Muggle medicine for upset stomachs and scanned for an empty chair, somewhere in the back preferably, where he could be invisible. Harry had already been whisked away to change clothes and do whatever Pansy told him to, so he was on his own. Most of the people already seated since the ceremony was to start shortly were unfamiliar to him, at least from the back. Until his attention was caught by a very familiar head of hair, sitting a few rows back from the front on his right. The trademark ponytail was shorter, but it couldn’t be anyone else. _What the hell was his father doing there?_

He made his way down the side aisle, skirting several shoulder height pedestals atop which sat enormous vases of pink roses. Lucius turned his head when he felt movement beside him and did a double take at the sight of his son sitting in the vacant seat and couldn’t help but smile.

“Hello, son. So you and Harry made it. Pansy said you were delayed by a family emergency. Is everything alright?”

Before Draco could answer or ask any questions of his own, the harpist who had been playing quietly, plucked some loud chords, drawing everyone’s attention to the back of the room. He and his father rose and turned to watch the procession, any further conversation delayed.

First down the aisle came several young cousins of Luna’s, throwing rose petals in the air. Some of them floated down to the ground and some turned into butterflies that fluttered away. Next came Ginny and then Hermione. _She had not been kidding about the amount of pink fur on the dresses_ , thought Lucius. There was fur around the neckline and down the front, cuffs that went halfway up their arms and all the way around the hemline. With each step the witches took, pink hearts came out from underneath the dress and floated behind them. 

Ginny and Hermione took their place beside the officiant and looked past her to Harry and Ron on the other side. Hermione caught Ron’s gaze and he made a face that could only be about what she and his sister were wearing. She made a shrug that said, _Luna_ and he grinned knowingly. Then she looked out into the guests for Lucius. Ginny spotted him first and whispered,

“Good Godric, Luci looks like sex on a stick!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hermione hissed back, her face going pink remembering the feel of his fingers on her bare back.

The absurd costume she wore notwithstanding, Hermione still looked stunning. While the color clashed with Ginny’s hair and skin tone, the pink complimented Hermione’s and somehow brought out the gold tones in her hair and eyes. Her curls were now adorned with a rose matching the ones she carried, and her slender neck above the collar of pygmy puff pelage was the only skin visible save her face. Smooth flesh that Lucius again felt the urge to kiss. His eyes were on her the entire ceremony, barely paying attention to the vows or magical binding which culminated with doves taking flight when the couple shared their first kiss as a married couple.

The ballroom was equally outlandishly appointed in all things pink. Even the champagne being served had been charmed that color. Fortunately, it was still a quality vintage, thought Lucius as he sipped his. Pansy had seated the Malfoy men and their partners at the same table, along with Ginny and Blaise. Hermione wondered if it was an attempt at reconciling father and son. The two younger Slytherins greeted each other like long lost brothers and the witches got hugs from Harry which were warmly returned; Ginny’s in particular letting him know there were no hard feelings. Hermione looked closely at her best friend. For the first time in a long time, he looked relaxed and happy. As did Draco.

“Lucius, Hermione? Really?” he said quietly as they embraced.

She just shrugged and smiled. Because as much as she didn’t mind telling Harry about how she asked his father-in-law to be her fake date for the weekend, she was starting to wish it was real. The wizard’s attentiveness made her feel cared for without being smothered and the spark she felt every time he touched her was keeping her at a low level of arousal. His husband, however, wasn’t as subtle. When the two witches and Harry were drawn away for photographs, he turned to Lucius.

“What the hell are you doing here, Father? And with Granger?”

Lucius arched a brow at his son and suppressed a sigh. He didn’t want to argue with him. Like Hermione, he had noticed both Draco and Harry had changed. Clearly living away from the magical world had done them both good. Or maybe it was being together. Or both.

“To what exactly do you object? My attendance or being here with Hermione?” he asked, taking a drink from his champagne flute and looking across the room to where the witch in question was being photographed.

“I’m not sure.” Draco sighed as well. Audibly. “It was a surprise is all. Hermione, I expected to see. You not so much. Definitely not together. Are you and she a - a thing? And for how long?”

The elder Malfoy pressed his lips together. When he got out of Azkaban, he promised himself he would never lie to his son again. But as he thought about how to answer that question, he found himself going over his previous feelings about how he wished he wasn’t just pretending to be her escort and how he wanted to see her again after the weekend was over.

“It’s a recent development,” Lucius acknowledged, his eyes sought the curly haired witch again then looked into the eyes that reflected what he saw in the mirror.

“I,” he hesitated over the words, because saying them aloud made it more real. “I find I fancy the brightest witch of her age. Quite a bit. She’s brilliant.”

“She’s swotty.”

“So are you,” said Harry, returning to the table just in time to catch the tail end of the conversation.

Lucius snorted into his champagne and Draco scowled at his husband for a half a second before his face softened. 

“But I love you anyway,” the dark haired wizard told him, sliding into his chair and putting his arm across the back of Draco’s, kissing his cheek. “Did you tell him yet?”

The blond shook his head.

“I was waiting for you.”

“Tell me what?” Lucius asked.

Draco suddenly looked a little nauseous, but Harry grinned, his green eyes lighting up behind his glasses.

“You’re going to be a grandfather!”

Blaise, who had escaped to the bar for something stronger than champagne when the two Malfoys began talking, returned to the table with both Ginny and Hermione in time to hear Harry’s announcement. Lucius had been stunned into silence, while the other three began talking at once.

“So who knocked up who?” Blaise teased.

“A baby? Are you adopting?” asked Ginny.

“No, I’ll bet they’re using a surrogate,” surmised Hermione. “How exciting! Is she a witch?”

“As usual, Hermione is right,” Harry replied. “But no, she’s not a witch. She’s a very nice married Muggle lady who has two children of her own and wanted to help someone else have a family.

“That’s why we missed our portkey yesterday. Eliza was having contractions and went to the hospital. We were concerned she’d gone into labor and it’s too early. She’s only 28 weeks. It was a false alarm but the doctors want her to take it easy going forward. Good thing both her kids are in school.”

The three who didn’t know about such things as in-vitro fertilization and surrogates looked confused. It was Hermione who explained how the process worked, with Harry adding that he and Draco had both provided sperm to fertilize the eggs so they won’t know until the baby is born who the biological father is. Draco pulled several photos from his inside jacket pocket and offered them to Lucius, who still had not said a word. 

“Those are ultrasound photos. I’m not exactly sure how it works, Hermione can explain it I’m sure,” he said. “They took them yesterday.”

“This is your baby?” Lucius asked, touching the black and white image. “Yours and Harry’s?”

“Yes, Father. It’s a girl. We thought we would name her Cissa, after Mother. We don’t have a middle name yet.”

Hermione’s hand found her way onto his knee beneath the table and he felt comforted by its warmth as he swallowed down the surprising swell of emotions threatening his composure.

“She would have liked that, son,” he said softly, continuing to gaze at the photos. They didn’t move like magical images, but they were clear and he looked at the tiny facial features. “I think she has your mother’s nose.”

The table had gone quiet during the interaction between Lucius and Draco and before someone could think of a way to restart the conversation, plates magically appeared before them with the first course for the evening’s meal. Lucius lay the photos on the table, looking at them again as everyone began to eat. He was fascinated that Muggles had the technology to see what a baby looked like before it was born. He was also touched that the pair wanted to name the baby after Narcissa. 

Hermione had removed her hand from his leg but as she went to lay her napkin across her lap, he reached over and took it in his and brought the back of it to his lips. It was his way of saying thank you but the touch of his mouth on her skin sent a current of magical energy down her arm, standing the fine hairs on it on end. Their eyes met and Hermione knew he felt it as well. He released her hand and they both made a half hearted effort to eat as the courses continued to appear on the table, stealing glances at each other.

When the last plate disappeared, Hermione looked at Ginny and said, “Care to come to the ladies’ with me? I need to powder my nose.”

“Sure.”

Behind the safety of the bathroom door, Hermione looked at the flush on her face in the mirror and said, “I need a cold shower.”

“No, you need a good shag. Blimey, Hermione, you want to talk about eye fucking. You and Luci were going at it all through dinner.”

Hermione splashed some water on her face and patted it dry. It did nothing to cool her heated cheeks.

“Gods, Ginny, we’ve had this -- attraction thing going on all day. From the time we woke up this morning and his arm was around me. Every time he touches me there’s this magical connection. I think he feels it too.”

“Wait, you shared a bed? I thought this was a pretend date just for the weekend?” Ginny asked, touching up her lipstick.

“Yes, the bed wouldn’t let me transfigure it into two. Something about the house having old magic, Lucius said.”

“So even the house thinks you two should get it on. I say go for it,” encouraged Ginny. “I didn’t think he knew how to smile, but he smiles like an idiot when he looks at you. Do you think we can take these off?”

She flapped her arms and bits of pink fur floated into the air.

“Absolutely. I’m tired of impersonating a molting pygmy puff. Maybe I’ll cool off a little too,” declared Hermione, stripping off the dreaded garment and stuffing it in her beaded bag. 

“Doubt it. Not once Luci sees you in that,” grinned Ginny.

“He already has. I needed him to do up the damn buttons.”

“Well I’m sure he’ll be happy to undo them as well.”

“Ginny!”

When the men saw the two witches approaching, the slow once over Lucius gave her, did nothing for the heat in Hermione’s veins. Even Draco and Harry’s eyebrows rose at her dress and Blaise gave her a wolf whistle, earning him a cuff on the shoulder from Ginny. He promptly pulled her onto his lap and whispered in her ear how much he liked her outfit, punctuating it with a kiss on her neck that was heated enough to make a mark. 

“I guess that relationship is out of the closet now, too,” Harry said to Hermione with a grin. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks.”

Music was playing, the bride and groom had already taken to the dance floor, and Luna was encouraging others to join them. Lucius stood as Hermione rounded the table to her chair and held out his hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

She slid her hand into his and allowed him to lead her to a less crowded corner of the dance floor where he pulled her into a traditional dance position with his hand at her waist and their palms clasped. As Hermione expected, Lucius was an impeccable dancer, and led her expertly through a moderate quick step. When she stumbled, he pulled her closer and slowed his steps just as the music shifted to a slower tempo. The overhead chandeliers dimmed, candles magically came to life on the tables and fairy lights lit up all the flower arrangements.

Adjusting his stance, Lucius pulled the hand he held close to his chest and curled his arm tighter around her, moving his hand up to the bare skin of her back above those blasted buttons and she looked up at him, feeling the tingle of magic flow between them. The look in his eyes told Hermione he felt it too. Her heart began to pound and it felt like some of the butterflies that had preceded her down the aisle had found their way into her stomach. The tip of her tongue moistened her lips and Lucius fought back a groan, mentally reciting the roster of his fifth year Quidditch team to keep the blood from rushing to his groin.

“Lucius?”

“Yes, Hermione?”

“What is the socially acceptable amount of time we need to spend in this room?”

His fingers traced the line where fabric met skin across her back and her breath hitched. Then he deftly danced them to the opposite corner of the dance floor which was closest to one of the ballroom doors.

“I’d say until the end of this song,” he murmured, his fingers now following the path of one of the ribbon straps past her shoulder blade to the top of her shoulder and began to slowly follow it down her chest. 

The music ended just as his fingers reached the top of the sweetheart neckline. They stood still, pulses pounding, gazing into each others’ eyes. Hermione pressed her body against his and slid her hand to the back of his neck, under his ponytail. She tried to pull his head down. She wanted to feel his mouth on hers. He allowed her to get them close enough that she could feel his breath on her lips. But when she pushed up on her toes, he pulled back fractionally.

“If I kiss you now, I won’t be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

Three long strides and they were out the door and into a hallway. Hermione didn’t remember her own feet moving. Lucius held her close and the next moment they were in their bedroom upstairs. A spell to lock the door in case someone came looking and one to silence all the sounds he planned on coaxing from her and his lips were where she wanted them. 

Their first kiss was gentle. Tentative, almost. Lucius hands cradled her face as his lips mapped hers. He kissed the corners of her mouth, her full lower lip and then the top one. Hermione whimpered when he finally covered her mouth completely with his and his tongue requested entry into hers. She willingly gave access and the whimper became a deeper sound when his tongue stroked hers and his hands moved to her shoulders, sliding the ribbons off of them, his mouth moving from hers, over her jaw to her neck, finding all the sensitive spots on the soft flesh.

Hermione’s hands, which had been clutching the lapels of his jacket, moved to push it from his shoulders and down his arms, forcing him to move his hands to pull it off and send it flying wandlessly across the room to a chair. Her fingers plucked at the buttons of his waistcoat and it joined the jacket. Lucius’ hands moved to the backs of her thighs and traced the seam of her stockings up, pushing her dress up as he went. When his fingers felt the clips of the garter belt he groaned and pulled a love bite on her neck. Then, as he had in his head, moved one hand and ran it down her back to pop off all the buttons he had done up only hours before, opening the back of her dress.

“Lucius!” Hermione gasped as the cool air hit her heated skin. Her hands had been tangled in his hair while his mouth ministered to her neck and she pulled them down to lay her palms against his chest putting a small distance between them.

He knew she could feel his heart pounding through his shirt and knew hers was as well if her breathing was any indication. Her lips looked thoroughly kissed and the mark on her neck was deepening from red to purple. But Lucius Malfoy was nothing if not a gentleman.

“Too fast?” he asked, his voice husky with want.

Hermione shook her head, not meeting his eyes. The wizard knew there was more.

“But?” he prompted, putting a finger under her chin to raise her gaze to his.

“It’s been a while.”

She wanted the wizard standing before her. The dampness between her legs told her so. But the last man she’d gone to bed with was a regrettable one-off with a Muggle she’d let pick her up when she was more than a little tipsy at a club the day after Ron and Pansy got married, permanently sealing the end of her childhood crush and brief relationship with the wizard to whom she gave her virginity. 

“We have all night, my darling,” Lucius assured her, dropping a gentle chaste kiss on her mouth, making her smile.

He swiftly untied his cravat and removed his shirt, manipulating the buttons and cufflinks with long nimble fingers that Hermione wanted to touch her again. Then he put it around her shoulders, covering the bareness of her back where her dress was open. The rich soft fabric was warm from his body and smelled deliciously of his soap and cologne. Sliding her arms into the sleeves, she turned them up to her wrists, then did up a few buttons before reaching underneath and pulling her dress down so she could step out of it, leaving on her stockings and heels. A wave of her hand and it joined his jacket and waistcoat. The shirt was hugely oversized on her and hung nearly to her knees, but made Lucius want her even more than when she had on the form fitting dress. Hermione sat down on the bed and held out a foot, inviting him to remove her shoe and stocking.

Lucius knelt before her, looking every inch a prince from the fairytales she’d read as a child; his hair tied back with a ribbon and his broad shoulders, wearing just another one of those undershirts he’d worn to bed and his formal black trousers. Gently he removed her shoes and set them aside. Then he lifted one leg and kissed her silk covered ankle, before working his lips up to her knee. Hermione leaned back, supporting her weight with her hands. The movement pulled the bottom of his shirt just far enough to reveal the top of her stocking. His lips continued a trail over her up her thigh before his fingers deftly unclipped the stocking and began rolling it down her leg. She shivered as his mouth re-traced its path; this time on her bare skin. The wizard repeated the process on her other leg. By the time he pulled the second stocking off, Hermione had fallen back on her elbows, watching him through hooded eyes, her body thrumming with desire for the man kneeling before her.

“Lucius.”

He rose to his feet and reached out to caress her cheek. Then he put his hands at her waist and moved her body further back on the bed, before pulling off his undershirt and joining her, a trousered knee going between her legs where she could feel the soft rich fabric against her skin. Hermione bent a knee, rubbing her thigh against his, before hooking her foot behind his leg and pulling him forward and down. Lucius caught himself on his hands, not wanting to put his whole weight on the petite witch, but that’s what Hermione wanted to feel.

She put her hands behind his head and untied the ribbon holding his hair in place, releasing it to fall in a curtain around his face. Threading her fingers into it, she pulled his head down and initiated a kiss. The silky strands of his hair on her face was a direct contrast to the late day scruff she felt as he moved his mouth over hers.

“Touch me,” she whispered before nipping at his earlobe and arching into him. 

Pushing up on an elbow, he cupped one of her full breasts in his large hand, kneading gently and thumbing her nipple into a tight bud that had her gasping into his mouth which had returned to hers. 

“More,” she breathed against his lips, and sucked on his bottom lip. 

His hips involuntarily bucked against her and Hermione could feel his hard length. She wondered if he wore pants. Underwear, she had learned, was a Muggle thing and most wizards went without. She moved one hand down his chest, reveling in the feel of his warm, toned flesh to palm him through his trousers and give his erection a gentle squeeze. He felt big and that sent a thrill through her at the thought of having him inside her.

“Witch,” Lucius growled into the valley between her breasts. 

He had unbuttoned his shirt and opened it while she was distracted by his size and now she gasped when he took one of her hardened nipples into his mouth. Hermione clutched at his head, raking her fingernails against his scalp and raised her hips, her one leg wrapped around his, trying to press her aching center against his hardness. But he wasn’t centered between her legs and she whimpered. While his mouth continued to minister to her breasts, she worked her hands between them and fumbled with the fastening on his trousers.

“Lucius, take these off. Please,” she panted. 

He knelt up on the bed to undo the button and zipper. Hermione helped push them down off his hips and freed his length. It stood proud, surrounded by the same dark golden hair that dusted his chest and abdomen. Part of her wanted to lean up and taste him, but her core clenched with a greater need. 

The rest of their clothing was dispatched, with less care than before, landing in a heap on the floor and then he was on her again, pressing her into the mattress, his hard body warm against hers. Hermione wrapped her legs around him, urging him toward her entrance that was wet and more than ready for him.

Lucius supported himself on his forearms and looked into her eyes. He wanted to make sure she was ready for this. He didn’t take bedding a witch lightly. Before being betrothed to Narcissa, he’d had his share of dalliances but his wife was the only witch with whom he’d had intercourse. The joining of flesh between witches and wizards was also a joining of magic and could have a significant emotional impact. Hermione gazed into his normally light gray orbs, the color of which had darkened to pewter and she knew he was asking her permission.

“Yes,” she said, barely above a whisper and the final consonant morphed into a hiss as he slid home, holding her gaze.

They made love twice before falling asleep. Both times he brought her to orgasm before allowing himself to lose control and both times their magic swirled and sizzled around them, rattling the tea cups on the table that had appeared at some point with a hot pot of tea under a stasis charm and some scones. 

When Hermione woke, the lights were still on and she looked at the wizard beside her. He was awake and gazing at her, memorizing her features with a small smile on his face. 

“Hi,” she said softly, reaching out to trace his lips.

“Hello.”

Her fingers followed an invisible line down his jaw and neck, over the faded Azkaban tattoo and down the center of his chest before she flattened her palm where she could feel the steady beat of his heart. She bit her bottom lip. Lucius could see the question forming in her eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“I could feel your magic mixing with mine. That -- that didn’t happen with Ron.”

Hermione’s voice dipped to a whisper when she said her first lover’s name. She wasn’t sure if what she had felt was real or just part of the amazing orgasms she’d experienced with the wizard beside her. Her and Ron’s few couplings were youthful and fumbled at first and then, hurried on his part to shag her hard and fast to reach his own climax, rarely paying attention to whether or not she’d come. Hermione had concluded he wasn’t selfish, they just weren’t a good match, because she couldn’t imagine Pansy ever being with a man who didn’t take her pleasure into consideration. 

“It doesn’t happen with everyone,” he acknowledged.

“Did it happen with you and Narcissa?”

“We were an arranged marriage,” Lucius hedged.

“So it didn’t.”

“Just once. The night Draco was conceived.”

Hermione’s eyes grew wide and she scrambled to a sitting position, the sheets pooling around her, heedless of her nudity.

“Are you trying to tell me you got me pregnant? I can’t -- I’m on the Pill. Muggle contraceptives. Oh, Merlin, is there a morning after spell?”

Lucius was glad his _Muffliato_ was still in place as her voice rose in volume with each sentence. He sat up and took her hands in his.

“Hermione, calm down. If you are using a chemical contraceptive, rest assured you did not get pregnant from our lovemaking. If we had just cast a spell beforehand, then there might have been a small chance.”

She sagged visibly, then realized how her words might have sounded.

“Lucius, I hope you didn’t take that as an insult. I mean, it’s not that I wouldn’t want to be pregnant by you, it’s just that we just started -- and this was the first time we -- and I’m just not ready to have a baby right now!”

She was babbling again and knew it but couldn’t seem to stop herself, so the wizard did the only thing he could think of to halt her flow of words. He kissed her. It only took a moment for her brain to shift and then she was responding with a whimper, running her fingers through his silken strands. When the kiss ended, Lucius lay down again, pulling her with him to rest her head on his chest. He arranged the covers over them and she snuggled into his side, sliding a leg across his.

“Lucius,” Hermione began, but he interrupted her.

“Shhh, darling. We can talk more about it in the morning.”

He cast a wandless, nonverbal _Nox_ and the lights went out. Hermione was soon lulled back to sleep by the warmth of his body and the gentle sound of his heartbeat. The wizard, however, lay awake thinking about the very thing he told her they could discuss in the light of day. Lucius had wondered if she had felt it. He couldn’t imagine that she hadn’t, given the intensity of their lovemaking. But being Muggleborn, he wasn’t sure if she even knew about such things. Sex education and the complexities of magical bonding wasn’t exactly part of the Hogwarts curriculum. 

He reflected on the one time it had happened with him and Narcissa and compared it to the experience with Hermione. With Narcissa, it had been brief and more something she felt than he, which was why they later suspected that was the night Draco was conceived, since it hadn’t happened before and didn’t any time after that. Tonight, though, it felt as if their magic had become a tangible presence in the room, combining and wrapping around them. Age gap and past differences aside, there was something special about the curly haired witch asleep in his arms and he didn’t think he was going to be able to walk away from whatever was burgeoning between them. Lucius pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and closed his eyes, allowing sleep to take him.

What woke Hermione again was the smell of food. Like the tea the night before which they never drank, a tray with a fresh pot, cups and a platter of -- based on the heavenly aroma -- freshly baked and still warm croissants and scones with all the necessary spreads had magically appeared in the room. She rolled over and discovered Lucius’ side of the bed was empty and the shower running in the bathroom. But the sheets were still warm so he hadn’t been gone long. After a catlike stretch, she contemplated joining him but knew that would lead to more lovemaking and as appealing as that was, she wanted to learn more about why their magic had become as connected as their bodies were joined the previous night. Summoning his shirt from the night before, Hermione slipped it on and left the warmth of the bed to investigate the food. Her stomach was growling, reminding her she’d eaten little of the wedding feast the night before. She fixed herself tea and curled up in one of the chairs, thinking about the wizard in the other room and trying _not_ to think about water sluicing over his fit, naked body

Her head told her that a relationship with a man twenty-five years her senior -- magical or not -- presented challenges, and when that man was Lucius Malfoy, former Death Eater and minion to Voldemort, the challenges increased exponentially. Regardless of how reformed he was, and Hermione believed he was, there would always be those who thought he should have been given a life sentence, or worse yet, the Dementor’s Kiss. There would be people who would hurl slurs at her for even being seen with him. Draco and Harry had experienced a bit of that when their relationship went public. Another reason why they preferred to live a non-magical life where they were just two married men; not a pardoned former Death Eater and The Boy Who Lived. But Hermione was used to slurs. Even now there was the occasional whisper behind her back in the Ministry from people who still thought she was lesser because of her blood status.

Her heart, on the other hand, was telling her that perhaps for once she should just take the leap. She’d done so when inviting Lucius to be her date this weekend, even under the guise of it being just for show. Just to keep Luna from pairing her up with one of her cousins. At least that’s how it started. And try as she might, Hermione knew that it was more than just a physical attraction.

She jumped at the feel of Lucius’ hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, love. Thinking deep thoughts?”

He bent to kiss her and she inhaled his clean, masculine scent and put a palm against his bare chest, getting distracted by him clad in only a towel, slung low on his hips.

“Mm-hmm. You’re nice and warm.”

“And you’re sitting in here in only my shirt. As adorable as it looks on you, you must be freezing. I don’t know what Augusta Longbottom has against warming charms for her guest rooms.”

Lucius took her teacup, put it on the table and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her. Hermione burrowed into his warmth, putting her face against his chest.

“Maybe she wanted us to huddle together to keep warm,” she mumbled into his skin.

The thought of someone trying to encourage them to be together brought her mind back where it had been and she tipped her head to look up at him. His hair was still damp and pulled back and his face looked smooth from a freshly applied shaving charm.

 _I could get used to this view._ Hermione went up on her toes to kiss his cheek, confirming the smoothness.

“Let me get a quick shower and then I want to hear more about this magical mixing thing we did.”

He tipped his head back and laughed.

“You make it sound like we made a potion.”

 _A love potion maybe,_ thought Hermione as she hurried toward the bathroom.

Hermione missed a note accompanying the repast that said the bride and groom had departed for their honeymoon destination the night before and guests could depart at their leisure. Lucius showed it to her when she was dressed.

“Once again, Luna dances to the beat of her own drum,” Hermione said. “If you want, we can see if Draco and Harry are still here and if they want to go somewhere for something more substantial to eat. I’m sure Ginny and Blaise are still sleeping.”

The wizard shook his head.

“If last night was any indication, they hurried home as soon as they could to make sure their -- what is the word? -- the woman having their baby is alright.”

“Surrogate,” Hermione supplied. “From the Latin _surrogare_ ‘to choose in place of another’.”

Her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth with her hands. _Fucking hell! I just talked down to him like I was back in school and he was Ronald or some First Year._ Before she could even form an apology in her head, Lucius spoke, his eyes twinkling over his teacup that she didn’t see because her hands had moved to cover her eyes.

“Yes, I quite remember my Latin.”

“I’m sorry, Lucius,” she finally managed. Her face had to be scarlet for as warm as it felt. “I didn’t mean to -- I wasn’t trying to --”

She heard his teacup return to its saucer and him stand. _Great! Now I’ve insulted him and he’s going to leave._ Then cool fingers were pulling her hands away and amused gray eyes were looking into hers. He was crouched in front of her and raised her hands, kissing each set of knuckles.

“I know you meant no insult. You’re a lot like Draco, you know. The comment issues forth before the brain can prevent it.”

Hermione looked at the wizard before her.

“You thought you cocked something up, didn’t you? Oh, my darling, it would take more than you making a swotty comment for me to walk away from you now. I made up my mind last night that this was no one-off for me, Hermione. I want to get to know you better and I want to keep you in my bed for as long as you’ll stay.”

Relief flooded through her that he wasn’t offended and was just as interested in exploring a relationship as she was. He leaned forward and she met him halfway to share a kiss that was starting to get heated when Lucius drew back and put his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed to his feet with a grimace.

“Knees. One downside to being with an old man.”

She rose to stand before him and wrapped her arms around his middle.

“Older. Not old,” Hermione said and kissed his jaw. “You won’t be old until you’re at least a hundred.”

Lucius smiled and kissed her forehead. Then he looked around the room.

“What would you say to getting our things packed and coming home with me? There are books in my library that will be able to explain the mixing of magic better than I, we can have a real meal and start getting to know each other better.”

“You had me at library,” she said, a cheeky grin coming over her lips. “Luci.”

He threw his head back and laughed.

  
  


_Epilogue: Christmas Eve at Malfoy Manor later that year_

Draco stepped out of the floo holding seven-month-old Cissa, who was wearing a green velvet dress, white tights with ruffles on the bum and tiny black shoes. Harry followed on his heels carrying two bags of gifts, that, even magically reduced in size, were filled to overflowing. Hermione reached for the baby who went willingly into her arms, Cissa’s small hands grabbing for her curls.

“See that, she’s more interested in the baby than saying hello to us,” Harry said with fake annoyance.

“Never,” the witch lied smilingly and handed Lucius his granddaughter. 

Then she embraced each of the wizards in turn before linking their arms with hers. The three of them followed Lucius and Cissa to the dining room, smiling as they watched him talk to the baby who had mended the rift between father and son the moment she was born.

“Hermione, do you and Father have something you want to tell us? That’s a lovely ring on your left hand,” Draco said. “Should I start calling you Mummy?”

Harry snorted as Hermione replied, “Not if you value your bollocks, Malfoy.”

“That’s Malfoy-Potter now I’ll have you know,” Draco informed her. “We decided we didn’t want Cissa to have one surname and each of us another, so we changed ours to match hers.”

“That’s so sweet!” the witch gushed, tears springing to her eyes.

“Now look what you’ve gone and done,” chastised Lucius, having gotten the baby into her highchair at the table and handed her a hard biscuit to gum.

Hermione took the handkerchief Lucius handed her and dabbed at her eyes as he put an arm around her waist.

“Sorry, I’m just a little emotional these days,” Hermione said, leaning into the wizard.

“Becoming a Malfoy can do that to you,” Harry said, earning a giggle from her and an eye roll from his husband.

“Well, the reason I’m emotional is why I have this ring.” 

Hermione smoothed the front of her robes down to reveal a small baby bump.

“She told me I needed to make an honest woman out of her,” Lucius said, a smile splitting his face.

He had been overjoyed when Hermione told him she was pregnant and wanted to get married. They’d been living together since March. It took him a month of wooing and the promise that if she moved in, she’d have access to the library twenty four-seven, before she acquiesced. But she wasn’t convinced they needed to formalize their relationship. In the back of her mind, Hermione still had doubts that he would change his mind and decide she was too young after all, so every time he brought up marriage, she said she wasn’t ready.

She’d stopped taking her birth control pills when they ran out and she didn’t have time to make a special trip to the Muggle chemist to get them refilled. The potions nauseated her so she told Lucius they could just use the contraceptive charm, knowing they ran the risk of it being cancelled out by the mixing of their magic when they made love. According to what she’d found in the Malfoy library it happened during moments of intimacy between two people who were so closely magically and emotionally matched that their two energies became one for a short period of time. 

It frustrated her that she couldn’t find a reason for it happening between Lucius and Narcissa when Draco was conceived since theirs was not a love match. Lucius told her to stop searching. If his son hadn’t been born when he was, he said, Draco and Hermione wouldn’t have gone to school together and she and the elder Malfoy wouldn’t have met. Never content to let someone else have the last word, his wife argued it was Luna’s wedding that brought them together.

When their daughter was born in May they named her Lucie Luna Malfoy. After her father and the quirky witch. Cissa, although a year older than her aunt, nicknamed her Lulu and the two grew up as sisters.


End file.
